Made To Be Broken
by HaloHunter89
Summary: You couldn't fix what was made to broken. The sooner she seen that the better off she would be and so would he. [s10]


**Well this was given to me shortly ago as a prompt fill. I hope I hit the nail on the head for you. If not- let me know and we can try again. This is set during season 10...kind of deviated a bit. It's during the time when he should be with Crowley but he's ventured off on his own. Enjoy.**

Their was a deliberate ache in his forearm that was spreading through him like a wildfire. It was burning his blood, burning away pieces of his humanity that he'd managed to hang on to. The burning was something he hadn't felt since hell, since those days, and nothing since then until now reminded him of those days. This new part of him reveled in the memories crafted like perfect mosaics. It was pulling him deeper and deeper and he wasn't able to fight this. This was exactly who he was now.

His eyes swept along the meandering people and he shook his head. He was ready to get the hell out of here. He was starting to feel the need to fight, fuck and drink. His face was already plastered all over the news for the last stunt in the gas station a while back. He didn't need this shit right now.

"You ready?" Her voice had a raspy sweet sound to it.

Dean's eyes swept over her his eyes darkening. He'd fucked this girl to hell and back. Still here she was trying to coax him into another day. He didn't need her nice words or her opinion. He was a man. A man who knew who he was and what he wanted. What he needed. What he needed to do was engraved in him, it was so deeply a part of him that he could no more separate the skin from bone.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. It wasn't long before they the sun was setting just outside. He felt it. He felt that culling, that thirst lick up his throat. Pouring alcohol on it was like dousing a fire with gas. Sometimes he wanted to watch the world burn and sometimes he wanted lay on his back and watch Eddie do her job.

Looking over her shoulder she met his eyes and stopped. "I know that look, Dean. I think if you just- Maybe if you called Sammy." Her voice caught on his name and his jaw tightened almost painfully. "I think it'd be good for you. You aren't a monster Dean."

"No, I'm a demon." He snarked, stepping closer to her and crowding her against the vehicle. "I'm not a pet puppy. I kill." His breath ghosted over throat and he watched her pulse jump.

"There is a difference in need and want." Her voice was soft. It shook slightly as she met his eyes. "You're still Dean Winchester."

"Need and want?" He stared at her hard. His hand slid between her thighs pressing the heel of his hand into her. She gasped and he leaned in, "I want to do ungodly things to you, I want you shaking and screaming my name." He paused his teeth catching her lip and biting, "I don't need too, no."

Eddie rocked against his hand her pupils blown wide. Her mouth popped open- she wanted to argue. She wanted to say anything to him like she had been for the past few months. The same diatribe of how he wasn't the mark. The mark didn't make him this way. He could go on and on and on about the things he'd done. The people he'd helped. The hell and pain he went through for his brother but that didn't change anything. Because at the end of the day when he looked in the mirror, in the blink of an eye- he was a demon. He was the thing he hunted. He was the monster that went bump in the night. He was everything he was trained to hate, and everything that was wrong.

That didn't mean he didn't want it. He did. Fuck, did he want. He loved feeling the teeth of his blade bite into the skin. He felt it like it was his own. He felt every knick, slice, cut and groove as it separates living from the dead. He was something to be feared. Something to be reckoned with. There was no stopping him.

"I want to kill." He growled, his chest rumbling like the engine of the impala. "I want to sink into the blood, I want to watch the life leave their eyes."

Eddie hiccuped pushing against his chest and closing her thighs against his assault, "No." She shook her head, "That isn't you. That's the mark talking."

Dean gave her a sardonic smile, "I was trained to kill at a young age, Eddie." His voice turned bitter at thoughts of his father, "I'm everything the old man wanted me to be, just fighting for a different side now." He looked off his finger drumming on his chin and he chuckled, "He's in hell though so I guess he can't judge. Wasn't much of a fucking saint himself now was he."

Eddie stared hard at him. They'd known each other all their lives. She knew his dad. She'd known him when Dean was sheltered in the beginning. When him and Sammy were out there fighting the good fight. Tensing his hand against the onslaught of fire in the brand on his arm he met her eyes. He could see memories of her fighting with his father swirling in her eyes.

"He tried." Her voice was sharp. "He wasn't perfect but he loved you."

Dean stared even harder. "Stop trying to fix me." He could taste fire and blood in his mouth and knew that it was time. Crowley warned him about this...had tried to explain in the beginning. He'd ignored it but there was none of that now. He knew what he was and he accepted it. He hunted for sport now, and no one was safe.

Stepping away from her he could feel a strong pulse in his arm. He let that carry him and he walked away. He'd find her afterwards. If he stayed there now he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't bury more than himself in her. Eddie watched him go, tears staining war hardened eyes, and he felt nothing. You couldn't fix what was made to be broken.

It didn't take long and he smiled when the man met his eyes. It was brief. It was fast but it was there. Flash of black. Flash of a calling card of someone who thought they could take a stab at him. He'd been hunted since Abaddon's death. He didn't regret it, in fact he'd fought what he wanted since the mark was given to him. But when that knife met her and he ended what was left of all of her. Wiped the slate clean...it was a new scripture. A testament to a new era. He wasn't a slave to hell and he sure hell wasn't Crowley's clean up crew. No he was just mopping up the mess that thought it was smart to plague his existence.

"Dean Winchester." The voice sneered to him. "Stupid of you to come here."

Smile still in play, "I'm not that easy….need to buy me dinner first."

The man sneered at him and stood up. More than a few eyes turned to him and adrenaline fed him like a man starved. Dean rose to his feet but the man was already moving out the door. Wherever he wanted to die was fine by him. Eddie's words were ringing in his ears about Sammy. It was bullshit. Sammy wasn't on his side, not this time. The thought as surprising as it was, was painful and visceral. His grip tightened on the blade and he moved without care. It slid like a warm knife into butter. He felt the spinal cord sever, he felt blood run over his fingers, he felt the life pumping from this meat suit. He felt the ache ease in his arm. He felt nothing more.

When he stepped into the room, she was there, she was sleeping. Blood was staining his hands and he stepped into the bathroom scrubbing it. Looking into the mirror it felt fractured. A distorted image of a man looking back, a question in his eyes under the guise of smoke and hate. Blinking and looking down as the water scalded and burned, he refused to meet his reflections gaze. He refused to see Dean Winchester in those eyes questioning him. This was who he was now. It wasn't just a need. He was a killer, a monster, he was everything he was taught not to be and everything he needed to be.

"Dean?" Eddie's voice was sleepy.

Stepping into the room he slid a smug look into place and hid the fractures that lay beneath. Hell brandished them and the mark turned them to something rotted and festered.

She yawned rolling over onto her stomach, her hair fanning out, "I think you should consider distancing yourself from it all. Try to...just try to make it without it. Like addicts you know." She blinked up at him.

"Murderers Anonymous?" He smirked, "Gonna be my sponsor?"

"I'll be whatever I need to be to make sure that you make it through this."

He set at her hips shrugging off his flannel and kicking his boots away. The ache was already starting and it'd barely been an hour. It was coming on sooner and sooner. He could already smell smoke and burning flesh, taste the blood, and his vision faded into a darkened red hue that made his heart pump and his world tilt. This was like riding the last waves of a high. The last moments before you started going through withdrawals. And he knew he'd be right back out there tomorrow looking for another piece of work, another tile for the mosaic, something to add that would finish it.

Eddie curled around him her stomach pressing against his back. Her fingers ran over his arm as she pulled it to her. Light touches, almost like a feather brushing against his mark. It felt good. Too good and he swallowed his eyes darkening more than humanly natural as he looked down at her. Her hair cast a halo around her and he looked away.

"They were all bad." Her voice was stronger, "I don't need you to tell me because I know _YOU_. I know you wouldn't hurt someone innocent. Just like I wouldn't, like Sammy...Cas and Bobby." her fingers kept up the pattern of his mark, "You've killed bad men, you've hunted, you've been everything you were while fighting everything you are. Even if you don't see it Dean, you are a _good_ man."

He needed a drink. Even now he could feel the billowing breath of death and pain. He could feel the wings of hell beating at his back telling him where his place was. He could feel the mark carving trenches in his soul. A good man? Dean scoffed and turned looking down at her and ignoring the glow to her hair. He ignored the love in her eyes. He ignored everything but the need to sink into her and forget the burning in his arm and the taste for blood at the moment.


End file.
